Mother Love
by AngieT
Summary: Not long after the death of his parents a grieving Frodo comes to stay at Bag End and meets the Gamgee family.
1. Default Chapter

NOTE. I know there is some difference of opinions on years of birth etc. I am using the family trees from the back of The Lord of the Rings for hobbit ages. This lists Frodo born 1368. Primula and Drogo dying in 1380. Samwise Gamgee born 1380. I hope this is alright with everyone.  
Bell Gamgee paused in her dishing up of breakfast to listen. The chatter from the children at the table did not help but she was sure she had heard a knock at the door.  
  
"Shush, you lot!" she scolded and in the relative silence the tentative sound was repeated.  
  
"Whoever can that be at this time of day?" Bell muttered, wiping her hands off on her apron and smoothing her hair back from her flushed face as she headed to the front door of Bag Shot Row.  
  
Whoever she might have thought it to be she was startled by the child on her doorstep. Dark, almost black curls surrounded a pale little face and the most enormous blue eyes she had ever seen.  
  
"Mrs Gamgee," murmured the lad, his voice so soft as to be almost a whisper. "Uncle Bilbo sent me to ask Mr Gamgee to bring the big saw as a branch of the willow came down last night in the wind."  
  
Bell had to lean forwards as far as the great bulge of her stomach would allow, to catch the words realising as she did who this apparition must be.  
  
"Are you Young Master Frodo?" she asked, sure that she must be right. No other child in or around Hobbiton could have those eyes, or that drawn face. Hamfast had told her that the boy, who was visiting with Mr Baggins, was just twelve years old, a year older than her own Halfred - but what a difference. Whereas Halfred was the picture of ruddy hobbit health, tanned and fattening out nicely, this boy was a few inches taller admittedly, but thin and weedy looking. The lad looked like a seedling that had been left too long in the dark; straining for sunshine.  
  
Her heart went out to the little child on her doorstep. His parents had only been dead a few months and Mr Bilbo had said that their only child would be coming to stay with him at Bag End for some weeks. "To give him a change of scenery." Bilbo had also asked that Halfred might be spared from chores on occasion to show the older boy around a bit, their being of so close an age.  
  
"Mr Gamgee's just finishing his breakfast, but come in m'dear and you can walk back up with him."  
  
Frodo looked as though he would prefer to bolt back up the hill but he had been bought up politely and allowed himself to be ushered into the Gamgee's kitchen where an assortment of children sat around the big wooden table with bowls full of porridge.  
  
For probably the first time ever silence fell over the Gamgee household as Bell led Frodo in. "This is Mr Baggins's cousin Master Frodo come to say you'll be needing the big saw up at Bag End today."  
  
"Aye," said the Gaffer. "I though the wind last night 'uld take that willow branch at last."  
  
"Sit yourself down Master Frodo," Bell ushered the nervous lad to a free chair between Halfred and Hamson and introduced the boys. "The little ones are Daisy and May." The girls giggled and blushed.  
  
"Good morning," said Frodo.  
  
Without asking, Bell set a bowl of porridge in front of Frodo and spooned a large dollop of honey into the middle of it. "You eat that while you wait," she said.  
  
Frodo ducked his head to the bowl of porridge. He picked up a spoon to swirl the honey around in a pattern and then took a tiny taste whilst peeping around the room he found himself in. The family had resumed their chatter -at a slightly more subdued level and were also trying their best to peek back at the strange arrival. Daisy stared openly at the boy, almost forgetting to eat her breakfast but when her eyes met Frodo's she grinned at him. Frodo smiled shyly back.  
  
Having made sure her brood were feeding well Bell sat down to get her own breakfast. She had a tall chair from the parlour set at the head of the table and she took a moment to ease her bulk down onto the cushions.  
  
"Some one else wants their breakfast," she smiled rubbing the swell of her belly beneath her apron as she settled. She had to sit sideways on to the table using her stomach as a rest for her porridge bowl.  
  
Frodo stared. He had never seen anyone so huge before.  
  
"Another Gamgee on the way," said Bell seeing his blue eyed stare from beneath very long eyelashes ('My, but the lad was pretty enough for a lass!') and Frodo realised that rather than being enormously fat she was actually pregnant. "A little Goldilocks or a little Samwise, depending."  
  
Frodo blushed and ducked his head back down. The porridge was actually very nice and he found himself eating the whole bowl full. The honey was wonderful, it tasted of summer days. "Thank you Mrs Gamgee," he managed as he put his spoon down.  
  
"And now lets be getting you back to Bag End," said the Gaffer standing up. He came round the table to kiss his wife and patted her belly in obvious pride and affection.  
  
"Would you like to stay for a bit Master Frodo?" Bell asked. "Halfred could show you around a little."  
  
Frodo did not know what to say. What he actually wanted was to go back to Bag End to hide in his room for a bit longer, but that would be rude when he had just been welcomed in and given food. He settled for nodding.  
  
The other children were pushing back their stools, gathering bowls and spoons to take to the sink and Frodo awkwardly joined the uneven line of heights. His eyes kept straying back to Mrs Gamgee who was pouring herself a cup of tea. He wondered how much bigger she could get before she exploded.  
Halfred, a solid child with no imagination what so ever, found Frodo to be a rather dreary companion. The boy said little, just going along with any suggestion the younger hobbit lad made. They toured the kitchen garden and the little plot of land the Gamgee's owned. They looked at the pigs and then Halfred ran out of ideas. As he steered them back to the kitchen he wondered what on earth he could do to entertain his rather morose guest - tree climbing looked a little out of the fragile boys league and Halfred did not even dare to suggest mushroom stealing.  
  
It was a relief to them both when they got back to the kitchen to find Bell had been making buns and they were roped in to sample the first batch.  
  
Frodo found himself again seated at the Gamgee's kitchen table, holding a warm, fragrant bun in his hands while watching Mrs Gamgee as she navigated her kitchen in her cumbersome state. He was fascinated by her.  
  
"Ma," said Halfred at last. "I just need to go out an' feed the pigs."  
  
Though this was clearly an excuse, Bell let the boy go. "Frodo can help me mix the next batch of rolls."  
  
Frodo was quite happy to sit quietly in the warm kitchen. Mrs Gamgee sang snatches of songs as she worked, measuring out the dough for bread with a long practiced hand. She gave the half kneaded mixture to Frodo to finish off, worried about his silence, so like any of her own offspring who were constantly chatting like a nest of Starlings.  
  
Carefully rolling up sleeves which were already a bit too short for him, and standing on a low stool, Frodo dug his small hands into the sticky cool mixture. This was a job he had loved to help his mother with. This would be one of their special times together. Just the two of them; Frodo as often as not sitting on the table, ready to test the mixture or the hot delicacies straight from the oven. Jam tarts had used to be one of his favourites and many a time he had burnt his tongue in being too willing to taste. The sunlight in their small kitchen turning the floury air into sparkling motes of dust. His mother, in her apron with the forget-me-not sprig pattern, singing much as Mrs Gamgee was now. The smell of cinnamon stung his nose and, of a sudden, tears were pricking the backs of his eyes. He did not want to cry. But feelings over whelmed him and he knew he would not be able to stop. He scrunched his eyes up and tried to stop breathing against the ache inside.  
  
Bell chatted on oblivious for a while, but she noticed the motionless boy standing so ridged by the table and then saw a big tear plop into the middle for the baking mixture.  
  
"Oh, there lamb," she bustled over to pull out a stool to sit next to Frodo. And Frodo suddenly found himself pressed up as close to a floury apron as the pregnancy would allow. Bell rocked the little boy, uttering soothing noises as she stroked his silky curls. He felt so slight and fragile in her arms. Once released, big shaking sobs wracked the slight frame and Frodo cried as though his heart were breaking all over again, keening his anguish into another mothers breast.  
  
The storm, as violent storms usually are, was short lived, leaving Frodo resting against Bell feeling exhausted and wrung out. He sniffed a little and allowed himself to revel in the feel of a mothers arms around him. Bell could not be more different than his own pretty little mother but she was comforting. He had slid down to rest half on her lap - what there was left of it - and half on his stool with his head beneath her breast when there was a sudden swift movement beneath his cheek as something kicked him sharply in the face.  
  
Frodo leapt back, knocking over his stool and stood horror stricken. He had known Bell was about to explode!  
  
But Bell was laughing as she rubbed her stomach. "This one is a lively one!"  
  
"What. what was that?" Frodo asked.  
  
"That was our little Samwise/Goldilocks. He or she is about ready to start out in the world and is impatient to be about it."  
  
"The baby?"  
  
"Yes, come feel, love." Bell took Frodo's small hand and rested it over her enormous belly. They both held their breath for a moment and then the baby rewarded them with another flurry of movement. "He or she is saying hello to you." Frodo gasped, then giggled in awe. He had an infectious giggle and the two conspirators laughed together as Hamson walked in.  
  
"What are you two about?" he asked good naturedly reaching for a bun.  
  
"Our secret," Bell winked at Frodo and heaved herself up to fetch a cloth from the sink which she ran in cold water. "And what do you want? Apart from my cinnamon rolls?"  
  
"Mr Bilbo says Master Frodo's dinner is ready."  
  
"Then off you must go, my dear." Bell ran the cloth over the little lads flushed face and cleared away the tears. She rested the cloth for a moment tenderly over his eyes to cool them, and with her free hand brushed the silky curls back from his forehead. Straightening up she looked down at him - so small, so seeming lost. Something in her responded strongly to him, to his need, almost as strongly as it did to her own children from whom he differed so greatly.  
  
She pushed into his hands a couple of the fragrant buns. "For the trip home."  
  
Frodo smiled up at the large woman. "Thank you."  
  
"And you must come and see the both of us again soon," she patted her belly where the child lay still once more.  
  
"I would like that."  
  
Bell stood by her kitchen door watching the small figure run back up the hill and her smile was bitter sweet.  
  
Two weeks later  
  
Frodo was sitting in the garden on a blanket with a book. The sun was warm on his back and he could hear the sound of bird song over the rhythmical dig of Mr Gamgee's spade turning over the earth. He took another bite from his apple.  
  
"Frodo! Frodo lad!" Bilbo appeared at his back door with a tray of mugs and Frodo scrambled to his feet to go help his cousin. He took the big pitcher, which smelled wonderfully of lemon and followed Bilbo up to the garden bench. "Now run and fetch the Gaffer," Bilbo told him. "I am sure he could use a break."  
  
Frodo trotted off the short distance to the vegetable plots with Bilbo looking fondly after him. In the two weeks he had been at Bag End Frodo had changed already. He had not exactly fattened up, but the hollows under his cheeks and the dark rings around his eyes were faded and he had taken on some colour. The periods between grieving were lengthening and sometimes the lad would go a whole day with out crying.  
  
Bilbo had tried his best to keep the boy occupied with books, stories and long walks, but it was the Gamgee family he had the most to thank in helping Frodo start on the long road to recovery. After his first morning at Bag Shot Row, Frodo found any excuse to return to the Gamgee home. Bilbo had hoped that the orphan would make friends with Halfred or Hamson but it was to Bell Gamgee the lad was drawn. As her pregnancy reached its conclusion it was Frodo who ran errands for her, kept her company, helped her around the house and even read to her.  
  
Bilbo would never forget the sight of Frodo racing up the hill to see if Bilbo had some yeast, quite forgetting that he was wearing one of Bells lavender sprigged aprons.  
  
"Thank 'ee Sir," the Gaffer took the proffered lemonade and drained the cup before Frodo had taken two sips of his. "'Tis thirsty work today and no mistake."  
  
"And how is Mrs Gamgee?" asked Bilbo, though he had had a full catalogue from Frodo just the day before.  
  
"Near her time," the Gaffer replied, as Bilbo refilled his cup.  
  
The two older hobbits sat for a while talking over seasonal plans for the garden. Which potatoes would do best in which part of the garden and which lettuce was more resistant to the pests. Frodo listened with half an ear, sipped his lemonade, delighting in the contrast between the sour lemon and the sweet sugar, and curled his toes in the cool grass. It was he who first spotted the figure careering up the back path, waving its arms like a windmill in a full gale.  
  
"Da! Da!" Halfred was gasping for breath by the time he reached the group under the tree. "Ham's gone for the midwife. The baby's coming!"  
In the flurry of activity Frodo was mostly ignored for the afternoon. He sat in the apple tree at the end of the lane to watch the comings and goings around Bag Shot Row. The midwife puffed her way up the hill behind Hamson almost at the same time as The Gaffer and Halfred reached their own front door. Then all was quiet for a while until Bilbo and The Gaffer appeared back at the front door with their pipes and sent up a furious cloud of smoke rings into the otherwise clear sky. They must have gone through near a whole batch of pipeweed before Mr Gamgee was summoned back indoor by his eldest daughter. Bilbo smoked a while longer, spoke to Halfred for a moment and then made his way back up the hill.  
  
Frodo met him at the garden gate. "Is Mrs Gamgee alright?"  
  
Bilbo seemed distracted. "Yes, lad, fine. Now, a welcoming present.. Not any old mathom. Let me think," and the older hobbit wandered back into his smial.  
  
Frodo stood uncertainly in the pathway. Bilbo's response had been very unsatisfactory. He wanted to see Bell, to know that she was all right - and he wanted to see Samwise/Goldilocks. He had become quite attached to the unborn baby over the last few weeks, reading to it, feeling it kicking its poor mother. He wanted to know that this tale would have a happy ending - or rather - a happy beginning.  
  
Making up his mind, Frodo turned his back on the big round green door of Bag End and set off down the hill.  
  
There was quite a bustle around Bag Shot Row. The Gamgee front parlour, a room hardly ever used, was slowly filling up with family, and well wishers. The midwife and Mr Gamgee were being congratulated in equal amounts as the cider was being passed around.  
  
One small, slender hobbit lad slipped by, quite unnoticed, into the corridor which led to the bedrooms. He took a couple of false turns before he peeked his head around the right door.  
  
"I wondered when you would be along to see us." Bell lay in her wide bed looking a bit drawn but awake enough. Her long hair was set loose on the pillow in a quantity of reddish gold curls and Frodo thought she suddenly looked a lot younger.  
  
"May I come in?"  
  
"Of course you can pet. And here is the new Gamgee to greet you."  
  
"Is it a boy or a girl?"  
  
"Come and see for yourself."  
  
Frodo trotted over to the bed and leaned over. By Bells' side lay a blanket wrapped bundle. Frodo moved aside a fold of cloth and was greeted with the sight of a peacefully sleeping scrap of pink flesh and gold hair.  
  
"Master Frodo Baggins, meet Samwise Gamgee."  
  
The baby gaped his rose bud mouth wide in a yawn and struggled to open his eyes. A tiny fist wormed its was out of the coverings to wave in the air and Frodo caught it in his own. "Hello Samwise/Goldilocks." Instantly fingers tightened in a surprisingly strong grip setting Frodo giggling. "This one will be a gardener. He already wants a shovel to hold."  
  
The baby seemed to look back up at the boy and liked what he saw for he smiled.  
  
Bell watched as Frodo stroked the baby's downy curls a look of wonderment on his face.  
  
"He is so little!"  
  
"I'm glad to say!" Bell smiled. "But he will soon be growing. Give him a year or so and he will be running about after your heels, my dear."  
  
"A new life," Frodo mused to himself, examining minute pointed ears and frowning in thought. "And he will have all his family around him." On an impulse Frodo leant over to bestow a kiss on Samwise's forehead. "You are very lucky," he whispered, too low for Bell to hear. "May you always be with those who you love and a blessing to those who love you."  
  
And with that, he cast a smile full of wonder at Bell, then turned and trotted off to go and tell Bilbo the good news. 


	2. Chapter 2

Shire reckoning 1383. Frodo is 15, Sam is 3, and Marigold is about to be born.  
Bilbo trotted happily around the kitchen of Bag End putting out bread rolls to cool, checking his meat pies were cooking nicely and mixing a carrot cake or two in the huge earthenware mixing bowl.  
  
Cousin Frodo was due to arrive today for his usual two months stay in Hobbiton for the summer and Bilbo knew enough about growing hobbit lads that his pantry would be put under some strain, and he did not want Frodo supplementing his diet with stolen produce from the local farmers. Reports from Brandy hall had been a bit disturbing this last year. The parentless boy was turning into a bit of a rascal in the warren that was Brandy Hall. Bilbo hoped that some individual attention would help over the summer.  
Frodo, hauling a rather huge and very dilapidated carpetbag, jumped down from the cart and waved a cheery goodbye to the driver. The beautifully painted, round green door of Bag End stood open waiting for him. It had already had its new coat of paint for the summer. The young hobbit smiled.  
  
"Frodo my lad!" The comforting and solid figure of Bilbo ran down the garden path, arms outstretched and Frodo felt a rush of warmth and love for the older hobbit. He dropped his carpetbag.  
  
"Uncle Bilbo!" the two cousins clasped each other close as though they had not seen each other for years although they had been together at Brandy Hall for Yule that year.  
  
"Did you have a good trip my boy? Not too tired I hope. So good to see you. Come inside, you'll be wanting something to eat."  
  
Frodo grinned. Some things never changed. Well actually nothing about Bilbo ever seemed to change. He looked the same, he sounded the same. A burden seemed to be lifting already from Frodo's slight shoulders. All was well with the world.  
Bell had been waiting all afternoon for the soft knock at her kitchen door. She was sitting by the table sipping a cup of camomile tea. "Come in, my dear."  
  
Frodo had grown a few inches in height over the winter months. His face was rosy and his side smile revealed the gap between his teeth was still present. Bell sometimes wondered if the lad had just never got his second set of teeth. That gab had been a permanent feature ever since she had first seen the eight year old boy on one of his trips to Hobbiton with his parents.  
  
"Hello Mrs Gamgee," Frodo greeted Bell with a careful hug. "How are you?"  
  
"Not too bad, thank you Master Frodo. Come and sit awhile and tell me what you have been up to."  
  
"Nothing as grand as you," Frodo laughed, indicating her once more swollen belly. "When is this Gamgee due?"  
  
"And day now," responded Bell. "This one is not such a kicker as our Samwise/Goldilocks. I'm thinking it will be a girl this time."  
  
"And the name?"  
  
"Well, the Gaffer has all sorts of boy names in mind but I am thinking of Marigold."  
  
"A pretty name."  
  
"Let me get you some tea," Bell rose half way out of her chair before she froze, her hand going to her back and her face paling.  
  
"Are you alright?" Frodo was at her side in an instant, helping to ease her back into her chair.  
  
"Yes, love, no need to fret. But be a dear and pour us both another cup."  
  
Frodo moved to comply looking worriedly at his friend. Mrs Gamgee did not look her usual rosy self. Her cheeks seemed a bit hollow and there were smudges under her eyes.  
Bilbo was starting to find life with Frodo was not as much fun as usual. He had been warned that the boy was growing moody and was often caught out in mischief, but he had assumed it was the environment at Brandy Hall, with too many people around, which was causing Frodo to seek attention. The first week of his stay had gone well enough as Frodo renewed his aquatance with old haunts and old friends. He spent his usual amount of time down at Bag Shot row and was often to be seen with young Samwise Gamgee in tow.  
  
But now Bilbo was finding it harder to keep his youngest cousin entertained. The boy had entered that awkward stage where he seemed to find everything totally boring. A knock at the kitchen door interrupted Bilbo's rather gloomy train of thought.  
  
"Beggin' your pardon, Mr Bilbo," the Gaffers usually jovial face was a little strained this morning. "I 'op it be alright, but I've bought Samwise with me this mornin'. The girls are helpin' their ma and little one wud only be in the way."  
  
"I hope all is well with Mrs Gamgee," Bilbo asked concerned.  
  
The Gaffer frowned. "Not so good Mr Bilbo. She's having a bit of a hard time of this one."  
  
"I am sorry to hear that," Bilbo was full of genuine worry for his gardener's wife. Truth was the Gamgee family were his closest friends in the whole of the Shire and he held them dearer than he did a good many of his own relations.  
  
The Gaffer touched his hat. "I'll be on with the work then and young Sam can stay by me. 'e won't be no trouble, Sir."  
  
"I am sure he won't," replied Bilbo. "And make sure you bring him in for some second breakfast."  
Frodo shuffled into the kitchen some time later, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and Bilbo inwardly groaned. It was going to be one of 'those' days was it: when Frodo hardly budged from his room and acted as though even turning up for meals was a mighty imposition on his valuable doing nothing time. At this times Bilbo admitted he found his cousin a bit of a chore, but he tried to keep in mind that the lad had no parents to fuss over and guide him and so needed to be given some extra leeway.  
  
"And what have you planned today my boy?" Bilbo asked cheerfully.  
  
"I thought I might do some reading," Frodo said.  
  
Bilbo frowned as he set scrambled eggs and mushrooms on toast in front of the boy. "Come my lad. Too nice a day to be cooped up indoors. You must go out and get some fresh air."  
  
Frodo stuck his fork desolately into his mushrooms and rolled his eyes behind Bilbo's back with an exaggerated sigh with the older hobbit thought best to ignore.  
Frodo wandered out into the garden looking as though he expected the fresh air would kill him. He really wanted to get on with reading his book - a rather badly written adventure story about a hobbit boy who got kidnapped by trolls. Frodo was into his 'reading trash' phase.  
  
He dragged his feet up to the plumb tree and threw himself beneath it in a manner which would have shaken the ground had he had more weight to him. He stared up at the branches of the tree and wondered if anyone had ever actually died of boredom. He closed his eyes against the flickering sunlight.  
  
A shadow fell across his face, denser than the swaying branches and Frodo opened his eyes.  
  
"Hello Sam," Frodo sat up. Here was something to interest him. Last year he had gained great entertainment from the antics of the chubby two year old. Now Sam was standing a bit more steadily on his fat legs, thumb stuck firmly in his mouth, as usual, and blond curls stuck full of bits of freshly cut grass.  
  
"'lo," said Sam around his thumb.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Frodo propped himself up on his elbows.  
  
"Helping Da," said Sam, showing Frodo a handful of buttercups he had been picking out of the lawn.  
  
"Want to go see the ducks on the pond?" Frodo asked, cheering somewhat.  
  
Samwise nodded eagerly.  
  
"Lets tell your da then," Frodo took a grubby hand in his and went off to follow the sounds of grass clippers.  
  
As the two boys crossed the lawn Frodo found himself with a feeling of dejar vue as Halfred Gamgee hove into view yelling wildly. "Da, Da. Baby's coming!"  
Two hobbit girls were walking up the land at Bag Shot row when the commotion of midwife and doctor passed them by. Stopping to gawp and listen for a moment they then moved on.  
  
"Did you hear what the doctor said?" asked the youngest. "About the Gamgee baby being the wrong was up."  
  
The elder girl stopped beneath the apple tree at the fork in the lane. "My Ma says Bell Gamgee won't survive this one."  
  
The younger looked shocked. "Why ever not?"  
  
"Ma says her Aunt looked just the same in the weeks before her baby was due and she had a horrible time of it." There was relish in the older girls voice. "Her baby was also coming out the wrong way round. Ma had to help and she said there was blood everywhere. It took all night, and then the doctor had to cut her open and the baby was dead inside her - it had suffocated - and then my Aunt died too!"  
  
"That's horrible," cried the younger girl.  
  
The elder tossed her head as she proceeded up the lane. "Comes of being poor and having too many children."  
  
Frodo, as of three years ago, was up in his post in the apple tree. Unobserved he had heard every word the girls had said. He clutched now the solid trunk of the tree and pressed his cheek to the rough bark. 'It was not true! It could not be true! Bell would not die, little Marigold would not die! Mothers should not die!!!'  
  
Frodo flung himself out of the tree, heedless of torn clothing. A twig snagged on his shirt and he tore himself free from its clutch. He fell to the ground on his hands and knees and then was up and running. He paid no heed to the direction he was going.  
  
He had to get out of there. Far away from the awful words. His flight took him by the Gamgee's front gate and sitting on the doorstep he saw Samwise. With out thinking for a moment about what he was doing Frodo grabbed the tiny lad under the arms, hauled him up, and fled the scene with his burden. He had to get them both out of here!  
  
tbc 


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Mother Love part 3 Author: Angie Rating: PG Summary: Frodo spends summer holidays with his Uncle Bilbo in the years after his parent's death. There he gets to know the Gamgee family and becomes especially attached to Bell. Do not own, do not profit. Just like playing with them.  
  
It was near 5 in the morning before anything like normality was resumed in the Gamgee household. The Gaffer sat in the kitchen looking very much the worse for the whole ordeal – and from his looks it was debatable just who had just given birth. Hamfast was very fond of his wife. They had married for love (and not for her rhubarb crumble as he was wont to joke) and that love had not faded one bit in all their years together.  
  
The doctor had gone on his way earlier with a stern aside to Hamfast. "No more children," Dr Bramble had said. "You've a fine healthy brood already. Don't push your luck." And the Gaffer had nodded earnestly.  
  
Bell was still sleeping and so was the babe. Hamfast had been glad to abandon all his fine male names in the face of the little scrap that was his newborn daughter. "Marigold it is then m'love," he kissed his exhausted wife.  
  
Dawn was creeping over the hedgerows and hills of Hobbiton as he went out to get a breath of fresh air. It had been a filthy night – inside and out. One of those sultry summer thunderstorms had been brewing all evening and had finally split open the skies around midnight; much to the relief of all. The rain has been sloughing it down ever since and was only now slowing.  
  
The house was very silent behind him. The children had been hurriedly packed away to neighbours but would be coming home soon as hobbits set out to work. There was already smoke coming from a few chimneys further down the hill.  
  
Slowly the Gamgee family gathered at the breakfast table with May acting in her mother's place, and just about managing to produce edible porridge. Hamson was the last one home; having used the excuse to go and stay with his sweetheart's family and Hamfast frowned as his son walked in the door. "And where's our Samwise?"  
  
"I thought he was with May and Daisy," said Halfred.  
  
And so the Gamgee's first discovered their loss.  
  
"Run up hill and see if he went with Mr Baggins," the Gaffer told his eldest son. "And don't any of you breathe a word of this to your ma."  
  
Bilbo was awoken by a banging on his front door and went to answer it grumbling and pulling on his dressing gown. His heart sank when he saw the breathless Halfred on his doorstep – sure that the worst had happened.  
  
"Beggin' pardon Mr Baggins, sir. Da said to ask if Sam's 'ere?" the boy asked, taking Bilbo completely off guard.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Samwise. We don't know where 'e is."  
  
Bilbo took a moment to take in this news and patted his dressing gown pockets distractedly as though he hoped to find the missing toddler in them. "Well, lets ask Frodo. The lad might have stayed here last night. How is your mother?"  
  
"Fine, Sir, and the little un."  
  
"I am very glad to hear it." Bilbo padded off down the corridor and got his second shock of the morning. No Frodo, and his bed had not been slept in, and the usual pile of yesterday's worn clothing was not thrown half on the chair and half off.  
  
"Sticklebacks!" the old hobbit swore. "Where is that boy?"  
  
Frodo's headlong flight had been bought to an abrupt halt by the turn in the weather forcing him to find shelter for himself and the small hobbit he had abducted. Looking out onto the dripping world and doing his fair share of dripping himself. He shivered and hunched further in on himself trying to sit on his feet to keep them warm.  
  
In his attempt to escaped the possible tragedy last evening he had not really though about anything. He had some idea that if he ran fast enough he could outrun the possibility that Bell might die in childbirth. His distraught mind had fixated on that thought – he could not bear it if she died as well, if little Sam had no mother. And so he had taken Sam with him to protect him.  
  
His thoughts were in a jumble.  
  
Frodo turned his head. Sam lay sleeping behind him in a natural depression in the side of the hill. An overhang of grassy ledge kept the little boy quite protected from the elements and he was snugly wrapped up in Frodo's jacket. He would be waking soon though and wanting his breakfast and Frodo had none to give.  
  
The older boy ran his fingers through his wet curls and rested his forehead on his soaked trouser knee. He did not know where to go or what to do. He had been a fool last night, running off like that. Maybe on his own he could have run away somewhere, to Bree or beyond – though he was vague as to what he would do once he was there. But his impetuousness had involved Samwise – and he would have to take the boy back and face it.  
  
Resigning himself to this course of action Frodo went to retrieve Sam. The little boy was just yawning and rubbing his eyes with a chubby fist. "Come on Sam," Frodo said. "Time to take you home."  
  
Trusting and unprotesting Sam went once more silently with his older friend.  
  
Frodo's feet were leaden as they trod the muddy path back to The Hill. He felt like every step was dragging him back to the horrible reality of Bell's death. He shivered and hoisted Sam up to sit on his hip, still wrapped in Frodo's jacket and seeming not at all phased by having awoken on a hillside. Sam was catching the occasional drop of water which fell from the trees above their heads. "Like wash day," he said. "Everything's washed new like."  
  
They emerged from the undergrowth on to the cart track which lead to The Hill when they encountered a party of hobbits on the path, Bilbo among them, all looking like they were setting off on an expedition with cloaks and packs.  
  
"Frodo!" Bilbo cried out on sight of his wayward cousin. "Frodo lad, what on earth possessed you to run off like that?"  
  
Frodo had not thought about what he was going to tell everyone. He had no thoughts further than getting Sam breakfast. His head ached and he felt miserably chilled. "I didn't want Sam to be an orphan too!" Frodo choked out, not really knowing where the words were coming from. His voice sounded raw. He sank slowly to his knees, oblivious to the muddy path and set Samwise on his feet.  
  
Bilbo felt as though someone had doused him in a barrel of cold water. "Oh Frodo. Sam's not an orphan. Mrs Gamgee is fine. Sam has a little sister and every one is terribly worried about the both of you."  
  
Frodo blinked. "Alive! Truly?"  
  
"Really and truly," Bilbo promised. "And the sooner we get you home the sooner you can see her." He put his hand out to help Frodo up.  
  
Frodo looked up at Bilbo with wet eyes. He sniffed and made a move to stand up but as he stood the world suddenly tilted away from him and he fell forwards.  
  
"Frodo!" cried Bilbo in alarm grabbing the boy as he fell. He caught him and pulled him up close against his chest – and felt the terrible heat radiating from the slender body. "Oh Frodo… What have you done?" 


End file.
